You watch her from the doorway. She's making the bed, dressed in a silk camisole with a flowered print. It's black, short, and incredibly sexy. She bends over ever so slightly, smoothing the satin sheets. The cami rides up, exposing more of those tiny legs. She stands up straight, sighs and rakes a hand through her hair, places the other on one small hip.
Your cock is raging inside your jeans, so much flawless flesh exposed to you she might as well be naked. That camisole wouldn't stop you from fucking her. Won't stop you. Your body throbs as she opens the drawer beside the bed, her back still to you; you know what's in that drawer. Handcuffs, some rope, a wide assortment of lubes. You watch as she picks up the handcuffs, dangles them from one finger. You can almost see the smirk on her pretty face. She tosses the handcuffs onto the bed. Your cock screams for attention.
You yank the black ski mask down over your face, grip the hilt of the hunting knife in your hand. You're in the room as she's reaching down to pull the duvet over the clean sheets. Her eyes widen as she spots you, her mouth opens, but she's too shocked to scream. Her arms come up, you grab her wrists roughly, toss her small body easily onto the bed. You're on top of her before she has the time to squirm away.
You don't drop all of your weight onto her. Don't want to crush her before you've had your fun. You press the flat edge of the knife against her throat. Her breath is coming in whimpers. You stare at her, she's staring at your crotch, at your raging hard-on. She knows what's coming, she turns those big blue eyes onto yours, shakes her head.
"Hands," you say gruffly, reaching for the handcuffs that lay by her head, she lifts those small, shaking hands in front of you. You clamp the cuffs onto her wrists, grab the chain that links them, and direct her hands above her head.
"Don't," she whimpers, closes those pretty eyes. "Please... there's money."
Your cock gives another insistent throb. You wouldn't trade all of the money in the world for that gorgeous little body. She's perfect, and you're going to fuck her until she screams for more. She's going to want you by the time you've finished with her.
You let go of the handcuffs, her arms don't move. You watch the expression on her face as you flip open the button of your jeans, slide the zipper down. You grunt as your hand dips into your boxers, fishes out your cock and your balls. You watch those innocent blue eyes widen and that slender throat move as she swallows.
You can tell she likes what she sees, you can see it there, in her eyes, just past the fear. She loves the way your cock looks. She should, after all...
"Fuck," you utter as you stroke yourself once, twice. You're painfully hot to touch, harder than steel. You need to burry yourself inside of her tight little pushy, cool yourself off. Your prick twitches at the thought, you smile.
You move the knife away from her throat, trail it lightly over her collarbone. You stop when you reach the valley of her breasts and the top of that flimsy camisole. You can see her nipples straining against the thin material, chest heaving. You can almost she her heart hammering against her rib cage.
The sharp knife has no problem cutting into the silk. The sound is like music to your ears, like the sound of scissors through wrapping paper. You wonder how much this piece of fabric cost her, amused as you think it was probably expensive. Wasn't a waste, though, she looked fucking amazing in it for the 5 minutes she wore it.
The knife cuts past her navel, exposing that flat stomach, that cute belly button. Lower, past her hips, over her pussy--you feel the heat on your knuckles and your cock jumps. She's wet for you, dying for you to fuck her.
As the knife cuts through the hem of her camisole, it slides from her body like water. Those small, pert breasts become exposed to your ravishing eyes. Those pink nipples are hard, dying for you to taste them. You watch, intoxicated as her breasts heave with each shallow breath. You reach up, nip the knife through the straps of her cami. It falls away, now forgotten as she lies naked before you.
You shift off of her, kneeling beside her. Her thighs are pressed tightly together and you can just see the top of her slit, the folds of skin that hide her sensitive clit. You reach out--she sucks in a breath--run a finger over her bald crotch. It's smooth, freshly shaven, you know. You bend over, press your lips where your finger had just been. You inhale her scent combined with that lotion she likes to use.
She whimpers and you smile. She doesn't want to enjoy it, but she can't help it. She's only a woman, after all, a woman who knows she's about to get fucked, have a blistering cock inside of her. His cock.
"Spread your legs," you order. Her eyes snap to yours and you see the first hints of anger in those pools of blue. Her rage only feeds your arousal. "Do it." You press the cool, flat edge of the knife to one of her nipples. A breath shudders from her lips. You know she likes it.
She turns her gaze away from you, stares hard at the ceiling as her pale thighs inch open. "Don't be shy," you murmur, clasping a hand on the inside of her thigh and coaxing her along. You catch the look of disgust on her face, it doesn't deter you. She won't be disgusted later. "That's it," you murmur as her legs spread for you. "Bend your knees," you whisper, shifting so you're now between her legs.
Your eyes drop immediately to that gorgeous pussy and your balls tighten. Even in the dim light you can see she's soaked, her lips spread wide, inviting you to touch. Your eyes rake up her body, spread so wantonly before you. Knees up, hands laying cuffed and useless above her head. Her lips are slightly parted and you know, despite her position, she wants to be touched, needs it. You know how long it's been since a man's put his fingers there, his cock. She needs the feel of someone's hands besides her own. You drop the knife to the floor, it clangs. You're unarmed now. She doesn't move.
Her gaze follows your fingers as you reach out. You both moan as your fingers press against her ever so slightly. Dripping, soaked, hotter than a furnace. Her toes curl into the mattress as you move your fingers, spreading those swollen lips. You think you might come just from touching her, seeing her so wet and ready to take your cock, to swallow it greedily.
"Fuck " she hisses. She doesn't want to enjoy it, but she is, trying to deny that your body feels good only makes it worse. You slip a finger inside that velvety heat. Hot, so fucking hot and wet. Her hips jerk, she can't stop it. Her hands are clenched, she wants to touch herself but she knows she can't, that you won't let her.
